Frid made an entrance. She had removed her stockings and shoes and had hitched her dress up with scarves. She carried the skewer in her sash and a shoe in her hand. She shut the door and leant against it in a dramatic manner.
“That’s my scarf,“ said Lord Wutherwood. He turned his back on the charade and began talking in a low, querulous voice to his brother.
“I am aweary with watching,” said Frid. “Praise to Allah the day is ours. Ho, slaves!”
Patch and Robin threw themselves on their faces. The twins saluted.
“Lie down, O Jael,” said Colin abruptly.
Frid crawled into the tent. “I am aweary unto death,” she repeated.
“Here comes S-S-Sis-Sis—” began Stephen.
“Hist!” shouted Patch, coming to his rescue. “I hear footprints. Stand to!”
“Stand!” said the twins.
The door opened and Henry came in. He wore a solar topee and his gauntlet driving gloves. He had turned up his trousers to resemble shorts. He focussed his field-glasses on the audience and said: “An arid desert, by gad!”
“ ’Tis Sisera,” said Frid. “Lure him hither, slaves.”
Roberta and Patch made winning gestures. Henry watched them through his field-glasses. When they drew nearer he seized Roberta by the arm. “A damn fine girl, by gad,” he said.
“Come hither, O Sisera,” invited Roberta uneasily. “Come to yonder tent.”
Henry was led to the tent. Frid writhed on the carpet and extended her arms. “Do I behold the valiant Sisera?” she asked. “All hail O Captain.”
Henry was dragged down to the floor. A rather confused scene took place in the course of which Frid gave him a few lines from Titania’s speech to Bottom and he began to snore.
“Vengeance is mine,” observed Frid. “Quick, the nail.” She drew the skewer from her sash and hammered it into the carpet behind Henry’s head. Henry yelled, gurgled, and lay still.
“Wail,” muttered Frid. The twins, Patch and Roberta wailed loudly.
“That’s all,” said Frid. “Were we right? It was a compound charade.”
Charlot and Lady Katherine clapped their hands. Lord Wutherwood glanced at them with annoyance and resumed his conversation. Lady Wutherwood stared out of the window with lack-lustre eyes.
“And now tidy up the mess,” Charlot ordered. “I want to show Aunt Violet and Aunt Kit how we fitted into 26. Where’s Mike?”
“We’ll find him, Mummy,” said Frid. “Come on, chaps. That’s that.” ii
When they returned to the hall Roberta saw that the Lampreys were in a family rage. Henry and Frid were white and the twins and Patch scarlet with fury. Roberta wondered if these reactions were the natural consequences of their complexions, if fair people were always more choleric than dark ones. Henry, she saw, was the angriest. He walked off down the passage calling “Michael!” in a voice that brought Mike running. “Your mama is asking for you,” said Henry.
“I’ve lost the pot,” said Mike. Henry turned on his heel and came back into the hall. He picked up rugs and hats and slung them indiscriminately into the cupboard.
“That was a howling success, wasn’t it?” said Frid. “Did either of them so much as glance at us, do you happen to know?”
“They’ve got the manners of hogs,” said Patch violently.
“Uncle Gabriel,” muttered Stephen slowly, “is without doubt an old—”
“Shut up,” said Colin.
“Well, isn’t he?”
“I hope Mummy’s pleased,” said Henry. “She’s seen us make as big fools of ourselves as can reasonably be expected in one afternoon.”
“It’s not Mummy’s fault,” murmured Colin uncomfortably.
Mike came in looking scared. “I can’t find the pot I’ve got to give Uncle Gabriel,” he said. His brothers and sisters paid no attention; Roberta hunted helplessly round the littered hall. Mike, looking anxious, wandered into the drawing-room.
“Shut that d-door,” said Stephen.
Patch hurled Lord Wutherwood’s bowler to the far end of the hall.
“Don’t be a fool, Patch,” said Henry. Colin picked the bowler up and pretended to be sick into it. The others watched him moodily.
“This has been great fun for Robin,” said Henry. “We’re sorry our relations are so bloody rude, Robin.”
“What does it matter?” said Roberta.
Henry stared at her. “You’re quite right,” he said, “it doesn’t matter. But if any of you think that noisome old treasure-trove in there is going to hand us two thousand pounds, you’re due for a disappointment. Daddy could go bankrupt six times over before his charming brother would help him.”
“You th-think we’re for it then?” asked Stephen.
“I do.”
“We’ll wriggle out,” said Frid. “We always have.”
“Wolf, wolf,” said Henry.
“Why? I don’t see it.”
“Let’s get out of this,” suggested Patch. “Mummy’s going to take the aunts into 26, isn’t she?”
“Let’s go into the dining-room,” said Frid.
Colin reminded them of Mike and the Chinese vase and wondered vaguely if they ought to look for it. Stephen said Lord Wutherwood could be depended upon to take the vase and go away without offering them any assistance. Frid and Henry said they thought the gesture with the vase should be attempted.
“Was it wrapped up?” asked Roberta suddenly.
“Yes. Mummy bought a smart box for it,” said Patch.
“Then I know where it is. It’s in her bedroom.”
“There let it lie, say I,” said Stephen.
“But if Charlot wants it?”
“Robin,” said Frid, “be a darling and go into the drawing-room. Hiss to Mummy where the pot is and then if she wants it she can send Mike.”
“All right,” agreed Roberta, and returned nervously to the drawing-room. She managed to give Charlot the message.
“Where’s Mike?” murmured Charlot.
“Didn’t he come in here?”
“Yes, but he’s wandered away.”
“Shall I find him?”
“No, never mind.”
As Roberta made for the door she heard Charlot say brightly: “Come along, Violet, come along, Aunt Kit, we’ll leave the boys to talk business.” Roberta hurried through into the dining-room where she found the Lampreys lying close together on the floor with their heads to the wall.
“Lock the door,” they whispered.
Roberta locked the door. Henry moved slightly and invited her with a gesture to lie between Frid and himself.
“What’s this in aid of?” asked Roberta.
“Ssh! Listen! Get closer.”
Roberta now saw that this part of the wall consisted of a boarded-up door which evidently had at one time opened into the drawing-room. The Lampreys were listening at the crack. The voices of Lord Charles and his brother could be clearly heard above the comfortable sounds made by the drawing-room fire.
“I’d better not,” breathed Roberta, diffidently.
“It’s all right,” said Frid in her ear. “Daddy wouldn’t mind. Ssh!”
“… so you see,” said Lord Charles’s voice, “it’s been a series of misfortunes rather than any one disaster. The jewellery and objets-d’art idea seemed a capital one. I really couldn’t foresee that poor Stein would shoot himself, you know. Now could I?”
“You go and tie yourself up with some miserable adventurer—”
“No, no, he wasn’t that, Gabriel, really.”
“Why the devil didn’t you make some enquiries?”
“Well I–I did make a good many. The truth is—”
“The truth is,“ said Lord Wutherwood’s voice edgily, ”you drifted into this business as you have drifted into every conceivable sort of blunder for the last twenty years.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Lord Charles’s voice: “Very well, Gabriel. I’ll take that. It’s quite useless in my predicament to offer excuses. I readily confess that the sort of explanation I have to make would seem quite ridiculous to you.”
“And to anyone else. I may as well tell you at the outset that I can’t do anything about it. I’ve helped you twice before and I might as weLL have thrown the money into the sea.”
“We were extremely grateful—”
“Is it too much to suggest that you might have shown it by pullin’ yourselves together? I told you then that you should recognize the fact that you were a man with a small income and a large family and should cut your coat accordingly. It’s preposterous, the way you live. Butlers, maids, cars, bringin’ gels out, doin’ the season, trips here, gamblin’ there. Good God, you ought to be livin’ like a — like a clerk or something! Why haven’t you got some post for yourself where you earned a wage? What are those three boys doin’?”